


+2 Damage To My Heart

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: no_tags, Gen, M/M, Tabletop Gaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: Frank's still not sure how he got talked into playing this stupid game on their day off.





	+2 Damage To My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #8
> 
> Frank/Gerard in a competition and someone is a sore loser
> 
> Quick and dirty beta by Ande. Thanks, babe.

### The Stage

"So, explain this to me again," Ray said, dubious. "We're operatives from different megacorps, we find a lost city, and then—"

"Not a lost city, a _necropolis_."

Ray rolled his eyes, because Gerard could be such a pretentious asshole about his games. "Okay, a _necropolis_."

"Hey, my guys have special abilities!" Frank pointed at the two character cards laid out on the table in front of him.

"All of the characters have special abilities, Frankie," James said, lighting a cigarette. "Some characters can fight, some are good at sneaking around, some gather information. It encourages cooperation."

" _Anyway_ —" Gerard blew out an annoyed breath and pushed his hair out of his face. The dye was fading, the red mellowing out to a funky orange-y color. "Every megacorp sent two operatives in an 'international cooperative expedition' to explore this alien necropolis that was discovered on the far side of the moon."

He pointed to the table, where the game board has been set up. It was comprised of 6 cardboard tiles, each about 12 inches square. "The mission for each group of operatives is to get in, grab what info and artifacts they find, and get out."

James elbowed Frank and pointed to the small army of miniatures. "Gerard did an amazing job painting them."

"Well, duh. He's an artist."

"You mean _artiste_ ," Mikey corrected. "You have no idea how much time he spent debating on whether to use Blood Mixed With Mud Brown or Fetid Fungal Green for the monsters."

"Dark Flock." It was like Gerard couldn't help himself.

"Dark Flock," Mikey smirked. "Alien-demon-thingies."

The miniatures were separated into two groups: humanoid figures in various types of battle armor, and the Dark Flock. Frank had to admit they did look like alien-demon-thingies. He picked up the biggest figure, which towered over the rest of the Dark Flock and humanoids. "Is this to scale?"

The creature was different than the others, some sort of nightmarish fusion of a pegasus, a lion, a beetle, and maybe...a giraffe? It was wielding big motherfucking swords in three of its five hands and the 'face' was frozen in a terrifying howl.

Some of the painted details were really creepy, like the eyes that covered the surface of the creature's wings. And the blood that seemed to drip off of the creature's fangs.

"That's a malakhim, the big boss of the game. It's got a bunch of magic, a bit of tech, and it's fast."

Frank shook his head. "It's gonna give me nightmares."

" _A_ malakhim, not _the_ Malakhim?" Ray asked. He pulled a hair elastic out of his pocket and tied his curls back into a tiny ponytail. "So there's more than one of them?"

"This game is part of the larger RPG universe, so yes, there's more than one malakhim. They're actually a low level creature in the Dark Flock." Gerard fiddled with the game titles, making sure they were perfectly aligned.

"Well, that's pretty terrifying," Ray said.

James shuddered. "You have no idea."

"But they're the worst we'll face in this campaign."

Frank crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, because he wasn't sure if he was up to commiting to playing this game more than once. It had the potential to suck ass, and he didn't know if he could put up with Gerard being all prissy about it.

"Put it away if you're not gonna share with the whole class, Iero," Gerard said, not looking up from the deck of cards he was shuffling.

"Ew."

"Gross."

"Pucker up, Frankie!" James make kissy faces and leaned toward Frank, who pushed him away.

"You're such a fucking perv," he whined.

James grinned. "You're all talk and no action."

"A lady has to keep her reputation intact," Frank said primly, crossing his legs, and Mikey and Ray howled like hyenas.

"Fuck you," Frank shouted. "My reputation is _spotless_."

That just made them laugh harder. Gerard was poking at the miniatures on the table, and when he looked up at Frank, his grin was filthy and knowing. It sent a wave of heat rushing over Frank, and he shifted in his chair.

"Anyway. We'll roll a die to see who goes first, then we'll go around the table clockwise. Once we've all taken a turn, it'll be the Dark Flock's turn." He waved at the alien-demon-thingies. "For this campaign, James has agreed to play the Dark Flock."

James stood up and took an exaggerated bow. He wobbled a little, hemmed in between the couch and the table, and Mikey pulled him back down before he fell over.

Gerard shook his head ruefully at James' shenanigans. "For each turn there's a movement phase, and then an action phase. During the movement phase, your character can move up to the number of movement points you have. During the action phase, you can do any number of actions up to the number of action points you have."

James stubbed out his cigarette and gestured across the table. "Unless you have a character with a special ability that gives you more actions. Some of the characters have special weapons that take more action points, too."

Ray looked down at his character cards. "This dude has a plasma blade that takes two points to use."

"Toro, is that a lightsaber?" Frank craned to look at Ray's characters. "That's awesome." He examined his own characters. "This chick has a power sword and this dude has a plasma rocket. That's cool, yeah?" He read the fine print. "Except the plasma rocket takes away a movement point."

"So he's a tank. Slow and powerful," Mikey pointed out. "Throw him in front and let him blow shit up."

"Yeah," Frank nodded.

"Right," Gerard said. "So, you move, then you take your actions. Actions are: searching the grid-square you're in and/or using your weapon. Depending on how many action points you have and your luck with the dice, you might be able to do multiple things during your turn."

Gerard dealt two blue-backed cards out to everyone except James."Okay, these cards are event cards. The card will tell you if it can only be used during a certain phase. Otherwise, basically, just follow the instructions on the cards." He shuffled a much smaller deck of yellow-backed cards and handed one to each of them. "This is your secret mission card. You get a big reward if you complete your secret mission, in addition to surviving and escaping the scenario."

 _Kill off all other operatives from enemy megacorps_ is what Frank's secret mission card read. "I thought this was supposed to be cooperative game." He leaned over, trying to peek at Ray's secret mission card, but he laid it face-down on the table before Frank could get a good look at it.

"How cooperative do you really think megacorps are going to be in a society of cutthroat capitalism?" Gerard asked.

"Yeah, okay," Frank conceded. He looked at his other cards. One of his event cards was _Adrenaline Rush: +2 to your movement phase_. The other said _Jammed: player's weapon does zero (0) damage for the turn_. "Okay." He could work with this.

"So," Gerard said. He shook out a cigarette from his pack of Marlboro Lights and stuck it into the corner of his mouth. "We start over here. Once a PC enters onto a new tile, we roll the dice, and some number of the Dark Flock—" Gerard shot a sour glance at Mikey. "—will materialize on the tile and try to kill us."

"Well, actually," James drawled. "They're gonna try to suck your souls out through your brains."

"Yeah." Gerard lit his cigarette and slurped lukewarm coffee from his mug. "Technically true."

"That sounds unpleasant," Ray said mildly.

"Understatement of the year," Mikey muttered, and Ray chuckled.

"Anyway, the Dark Flock, from least worst to absolute worst." He picked up the smallest of the monster figures. It was a twisted bipedal creature, rat-faced with four arms. It had armor, but it looked more like an insect carapace. "Daemonum. Basically cannon fodder. Easy to kill, doesn't do a lot of damage." The next creature was a hunched form, with a series of blade-like protrusions at the arm and leg joints, and wickedly sharp looking claws. Instead of a face, there was a featureless stretch of skin with a single eye. The overall effect made Frank's skin crawl. "Seraphim. A little stronger, a little faster, but still not terribly hard to kill."

"Those—" Ray shuddered. "Those look _terrible_." It didn't help that Gerard had painted the seraphim in pasty colors, pallid greys and off-whites that were reminiscent of rotting flesh.

"Thanks!" Gerard beamed, and Frank couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

"This is an ophanim." It looked like a big cat, tiger-shaped, that had been disassembled and then randomly pieced back together. The limbs were weirdly proportioned, the front ones too long, the back ones too short, and they were attached to the torso in strange, unsymmetrical places. It had a huge mouth that contained row after row of sharp teeth, but no eyes or ears. "These guys are dangerous. They're fast and they'll do a lot of damage. They can take a bunch of hits without slowing down, too."

"Want to take 'em out with distance weapons. Don't engage in close combat with them, they're fucking strong," James noted. "The further away, the better."

Frank looked at him, eyebrow arched.

"I've died by ophanim more times than I care to count," James explained. "They have a trample attack that...well, tramples you. Distance weapons are totally the way to go."

"And of course, the malakhim." Gerard set the figure onto a tile with a soft click. "It's strong and fucking fast, casts spells and has the ability to use our tech against us. The only way to kill it is for everyone to band together and attack."

"Running is an option, too," Mikey said. "Cowardice is a totally valid lifestyle choice. Surviving is surviving."

Gerard frowned. "Well, yes. But you don't get as many experience points for running away."

Mikey shrugged. "Still alive, though." He played with the zipper of his hoodie.

Gerard ignored that. "Okay, it might be easier to hold off on questions until after we've gone a round or two, so you can see how the gameplay goes." He looked at his watch. "Let's take a ten minute break, then get started."

### The Break

"I'm ordering from room service, anyone else want something?" Ray asked, wandering over to the phone. He flipped through the menu on the nightstand.

"Toro, we have a _huge_ pile of snacks," Frank said, gesturing to the bags of chips and candy and crackers and cookies that were scattered on the counter between the living room and the small kitchenette. He knew that the fridge was stocked with an assortment of sodas and energy drinks.

"I want something more substantial," Ray said. "I'm hungry."

Mikey ambled over to Ray and peered at the menu. "Oh, the burger looks good."

"Burgers?" James asked. "Can I get a cheeseburger with bacon?"

Frank rolled his eyes, because there was very little that Mikey _wouldn't_ eat, and James had a really unhealthy obsession with bacon.

Two days off in a row was a rarity, but there'd been a cancellation, and management had shuffled things around, and here they were, two days in a swanky hotel, and nowhere they had to be.

Frank had thought about camping out in the bathtub for both days, soaking all the tour filth off of his skin. Maybe with bubbles or some shit. Ray had pointed out that his skin would get all pruney, not just his fingers, but everywhere, and that had freaked him out. He didn't want a pruney dick.

He'd thought that maybe he'd loll around in his jockey shorts, watching mindless reality television, and scratching his balls whenever he felt like it. Just letting it all hang out.

Gerard, _of course_ , fucking Gerard, had decided that they should play his stupid favorite board game, instead.

Frank grabbed a bag of Cheetos and opened it, thinking sadly about lost opportunities. He looked around, and the door to the bedroom caught his eye, and he remembered. Hotel night. With _Gerard_. Who had promised to make it up to Frank if he would play this stupid board game with the guys. Gerard had trailed his hand down Frank's chest, a slow, teasing journey that stopped at the button of his jeans.

"C'mon, Frankie," he'd whispered.

Frank had difficulty saying 'no' to Gerard at the best of times. Once his dick got involved, 'no' was a distant memory.

So here they were, playing Gerard's stupid game instead of watching tv because Frank was so fucking gone for this guy. It was ridiculous.

Ten minutes turned into twenty while they waited for room service, and then things got chaotic as they tried to crowd around the coffee table with their food and snacks. Ray elbowed a soda can off the table by accident, but luckily, it was empty.

It was another fifteen minutes before everything had settled down and they were all ready to play.

### Round One

"Ray, you're the first one to enter the room. It's big and empty, the sounds echo strangely as you walk forward. The floor looks like it's made of marble, and along the walls there are carved bas-relief scenes, showing...you can't quite tell. Your eyes can't make sense of what you're seeing, but you feel deeply uneasy."

"Wow, Gerard, thanks for the creepy fucking atmosphere," Ray said.

"'M gonna be having nightmares," Frank muttered. In spite of (or possibly because of) his love of the horror genre, Frank was pretty susceptible to bad dreams. He'd woken Gerard multiple times by thrashing around in their bunk, yelling about murderers or monsters. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Gerard shrugged. "It's the price you pay for having a vivid imagination, Frankie."

"And for watching scary movies by yourself late at night," Mikey said. "I keep telling you not to do that."

"Stubborn," James pointed out.

"Okay, can we have less dissection of my flaws as a person and more creepy-as-fuck game playing? Especially since I'm right here?"

Gerard blew a raspberry at him. "Okay, Raymundo, whatcha gonna do? You're standing in the doorway, the unknown beckoning you."

"Fuck the unknown," Ray muttered. "I'm going to move my dude, and then search the square I'm in." He pushed his character forward three squares.

"Roll your die," James said.

The die clattered on the table. "Six."

James shrugged. "You don't find anything."

"Okay, I'm going to move my dudette and search." This time, Ray didn't move his figure in a straight line. He rolled the die again. "Two."

"Nothing. Okay, Frank, you're up."

### Round Five

"Okay, Mikey, you move through the doorway and into the next room. It's dark, but you're pretty sure you see _something_ moving."

"It's like that scene in _Brainsuckers From Outer Space_ ," Frank whispered to James, who nodded.

Mikey flipped over one of his event cards. "I'm using an action point to turn on the lights."

 _Flare Drones: Use an action point to light up this room and one adjacent room._ The card had a little picture of a drone with a spotlight.

"Which adjacent room?" James asked while eating some chips.

"Duh." Mikey pointed to the room in front of his characters. "The one we haven't been in yet."

"The drone lights up the room, and the one in front of you," Gerard intoned gravely. "You can see—"

James rolled a die. "Six."

"—Six creatures. They are terrifyingly misshapen, with too many arms; your brain keeps trying to make some kind of sense of what you're seeing, but it's not working."

James carefully placed six daemonum figures onto the game tile.

"We're gonna die," Ray said.

"I have two more action points with this dude, so he's gonna take aim at the closest daemonum with my laser pistol." Mikey pointed at one of the creatures.

"Roll," James said. "Laser pistol does d6 damage."

"What does that mean?" Frank asked. Gamers had a language that he still didn't understand.

"D6 means you roll a six-sided die to determine the damage," Gerard said.

Mikey rolled the die twice. "Five, six."

"You hit both times; the daemonum screeches in agony," James said. "There's a sticky green fluid leaking from it, and it's staggering on its feet."

"My other character's gonna search the grid he's in, try to find some artifacts," Mikey said.

### Round Thirteen

"Oh, fucking hell," Mikey said.

"In your face," Frank shouted. "My megacorp, uh—" He looked down at his character cards. "—Dormart-Tsubi-GmbH is the best. We've got five, count 'em, five alien artifacts now." He rubbed his hand together. "World domination, here we come!"

### Round Twenty

_Sleight of Hand: Use three action points to steal an artifact from another character. You must be within one (1) square of your victim._

"You fucker," Frank howled. "You thieving rat-bastard. Give me back my artifact!"

Gerard just grinned unrepentantly. "Make me."

Frank peeked at his event cards and scowled down at the game board. "I'm gonna get you, Way. Just wait and see."

Mikey laughed.

### Round Thirty Three

"What are you doing?" Gerard hissed. "You're gonna get killed!"

Two ophanim were right next to Ray's character. "I can't outrun them, they're too close. And I certainly can't kill them both."

The card Ray had flipped over read _Suicide Photon Grenade: Does 4d+5 damage to all characters in a one (1) square radius._

"What does that mean, 4d+5?" Frank asked.

"It means you roll four dice, the default is a six-sider, and add five to the total," Mikey explained. "Gives us a range of nine to 29 points of damage."

"And it's a one square radius, so one square away from where Ray's character is, in all directions," James said. "So, anything in these nine squares is going to take some damage." James drew an imaginary outline of the blast zone.

Ray rolled the dice. "Uh, 10 plus five, so 15."

James whistled. "Ouch. What does that bring you down to, Ray?"

"Negative three health," Ray said glumly.

"Well, you still can be revived, if someone can get a health pak to you. The ophanim are _pissed_ , though." James burped loudly. "Frank."

"Come save me," Ray whined.

"Fuck that," Frank said. "If I try, I'm gonna get brain drained."

"I thought you were my friend."

"I love you, Ray, but not enough to go up against those two pissed-off ophanim. Thanks but no thanks."

"I don't like you any more," Ray pouted.

### Round Thirty Nine

"Oh, fuck me," Ray said. "We're fucked."

The malakhim, at long last, was in play. "Here's Johnny," James murmured, and he laughed at his own joke.

"That was lame," Frank said.

James shrugged. "Shit's about to get real, son. Say your prayers."

Ray and Frank were both down to one character each, while both of Gerard and Mikey's characters were battered and bloodied, but still alive and kicking.

"This is going to be ugly," Mikey said, and Frank could only agree.

### Round Forty Two

"The malakhim swings at you with its sword, and—" James rolled his die, "—decapitates you. There's blood spurting everywhere, and it cradles your head in its arms, almost tenderly."

Frank made a gagging sound while Mikey stared mournfully at his character cards. "So long, Dru McCleod of the Union Megacorp. You fought a good fight."

"And she died a good death," Gerard added. "You should be proud, Mikey. Not everyone can survive an encounter with a malakhim."

"Fuck you," Mikey said. "I hope the malakhim eats you alive."

Frank giggled.

"Both of you," Mikey clarified.

"Hey, I lost one of my characters to the malakhim, too," Gerard pointed out.

"Eats you alive," Mikey repeated.

### Round Forty Seven

James said, somewhat cheerfully, "Mikey, you make it to the exit, with Ray right behind you."

"Wait for us!" Frank said.

"It's every megacorp for itself, Frankie." Mikey said somberly. "We'll remember you with great fondness and respect."

"Maybe we'll build a memorial for you, back on Earth," Ray added. "Something elegant and stately."

The malakhim was gaining on Gerard and Frank. It was terrifying. Frank could almost feel the malakhim's hungry, evil stare. "Gonna get eaten," he said.

"Well," Gerard said. " _You_ are, anyway."

### Round Fifty Three

_Kneecapped: Your opponent's movement is reduced to one (1) for the remainder of the game._

Frank blinked repeatedly in hopes of making sense of Gerard's event card.

Ray and Mikey, in unison, said "Ohhhhhhhh."

Understanding swept over him. "What the fuck?" Frank snapped. "What the actual fuck, Gerard." It felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest.

"It's nothing personal, Frankie. But if the malakhim is busy eating you, I'll have time to get away."

"Fuck you," he said coldly.

### The End

Things unraveled quickly after that. Frank put up a valiant effort, fighting the malakhim for as long as possible, before the malakhim sliced and diced him with multiple sword attacks.

Ray and Mikey cackled like the assholes they were, and Frank fumed as Gerard escaped the necropolis unscathed. He couldn't believe that Gerard had betrayed him like that.

When Ray and Mikey and James retired to their own rooms for the night, Frank retreated to the bedroom. Gerard sat on the couch, idly sketching scenes from the game, Mikey and his flare drones, Ray fighting off the ophanim. He worked on a doodle of Frank's character being mutilated by the malakhim when he yawned.

Bedtime. 

He closed the sketchbook, turned off the lights and headed to the bedroom. The door was shut, and when he tried to turn the knob, he realized it was locked. "Frank?" He pressed his ear to the door. "Frank? You're not still mad, are you?"

"Fuck off." Frank's voice was muffled, but there was no mistaking the anger.

"Frank." 

Silence.

Gerard sighed loudly. "You're being ridiculous."

"Fuck off," Frank sing-songed, and Gerard gave up. 

The couch was more comfortable that Gerard had expected, and it wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep.

### Game Day +1

"C'mon, Frank, let me make it up to you." Gerard toyed with the top button of Frank's cardigan. "Let's go into the bedroom and I'll show you how sorry I am." He smiled winningly.

Frank smacked his hand away and scowled. 

The couch was less comfortable this time around.

### Game Day +2

It was a travel day, which mean that Frank holed up in his bunk, the curtain firmly closed. Gerard made an attempt to sweet-talk Frank out of his foul mood, but he just hissed at Gerard like an angry cat. He apologized twice, but there was no response from Frank, and so he temporarily gave up.

James and Mikey kept Gerard company in the lounge, playing video games and trash talking each other. Gerard let himself zone out.

### Game Day +3

Frank crawled into Gerard's bunk at some ungodly hour in the morning, long before Gerard had planned on being awake. "I don't like you anymore." Frank spooned up behind him, wrapping his arms around Gerard.

Gerard huffed. "I know."

"You're a fucking asshole."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Frank pressed a kiss to the back of Gerard's neck. "I don't like being mad at you. It's a lot of work."

"I don't like it either." Gerard brought one of Frank's hands up to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to it. "I _am_ sorry, you know."

Frank sighed and relaxed against Gerard. "Asshole."

"Asshole who loves you."

"Mmm-hmmm," Frank hummed, and a moment later, he drifted off to sleep. Gerard followed not long after.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> So, this might have been based on a real life incident. Or not.
> 
> Bonus points if you can guess the game that this is based on.


End file.
